The Pure Blood Princess
by Fishnet-and-Leather
Summary: Marcella Stone is forced to attend Hogwarts in an attempt to protect Draco Malfoy during his sixth year. But how will she fare as his unknown guardian?
1. Chapter 1

So this is my first ever attempt at fanfiction! Eeep. I won't ask you to be nice, simply honest. If you don't like it, I'm okay with that. Bear in mind that any help with grammatical mistakes will be most welcome.

To begin: I own nothing but my OC, Marcella. The plot bunny that gnawed away at me until I wrote this is technically mine, but I'm sure there are other, better versions of this kind of thing floating around. I haven't read any, so feel free to send me links!

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Harry Potter and the Pure Blood Princess

"Mother, you cannot be serious!" Marcella stared at the woman standing before her, as if she did not know her at all. "What do you mean, why can I not stay and be taught at home? Why now? Mother," she felt wary of the look she was being given, "what has happened?"

Bellatrix regarded her daughter. Yes, she could tell her. "The Dark Lord has given me more responsibilities now, and I no longer have enough time to teach you what you need to know, in order to follow my footsteps. You must go to Hogwarts, and excel at your studies, if only for the sake of your family name."

"That is not all, is it?" the girl challenged back. "There is something else. Oh please, if there is something which I must do to help, only tell me and it is done. You know me, you can trust me." Her own dark eyes implored to her mother's similar ones, which refused to soften.

"I only just got you back…" the girl continued, then realised her cold mother would not appreciate a reminder of those lost years. "I mean, I have managed myself for 15 years now, with very little help. Why must I go to Hogwarts now, with only two years left? And how could they accept me, knowing who I am?"

"What do you mean "knowing who I am"? You are a Black, a Lestrange, a –" she paused. "But yes, they will accept you as an orphan, raised by the Stones, without your true last name. Severus," here her face had a pained look, "has convinced the authorities to let you in Slytherin, without trial. Although why anyone would doubt your membership to that house, not by blood alone, I have no idea."

The teenager looked pleased at this. To her mother, the attributes of a Slytherin were the only attributes worth having. Yet there was still something her mother was not revealing, something important. "You know I can teach myself, there is another reason, is there not? Tell me. If it is something I have to do, you only have to ask."

Bellatrix hesitated. On the one hand, she wanted her daughter to prove herself, but on the other, she was not sure how far the girl's part could go. An explanation was needed either way. "Sit down." Her daughter hovered for a second; unsure about why the older woman was so reluctant. She waited. Eventually the story began.

"There is a boy at Hogwarts, the same age as you, who has been entrusted with a specific task by the Dark Lord. Only last night, Severus made a promise to look after the boy, but I do not trust him. As no one knows of your existence, you would be the perfect spy. Will you help him, without ever telling anyone who you really are?"

She knew the answer before the girl spoke. "Of course. Anything to help you and my future Lord. Who is the boy? What is the task?"

The explanation had given enough already. "His name is Draco, but I cannot tell you what he must do. I can only tell you to give him what help he asks for, however strange it might seem. His family is very close to the Dark Lord, and his failure would not be tolerated. Now, go to bed, we have to get your school things in the morning. Term starts on Monday."

The girl repressed a shudder at the word "school", and went about her nightly routine. As she cast the extra concealment charms around her room, her thoughts wandered to something her mother had said earlier: "no one knows of your existence". The situation was a strange one, true enough, and as she lay in bed, the memories of finding out who she was came flying back to her.

It was the morning of her fifteenth birthday, and her adoptive father, Mr Stone, turned to her at the breakfast table, laughing. This was an odd sight indeed, for he was exactly like his surname implied, cold and hard-hearted. He had a letter in his hand, which he handed to her. She scanned the contents and then looked at him, unsure of what to say. The basic idea was that her birth mother was ready to make contact. No one knew who she was, so the only guess was that he was laughing at the timing, as only the night before, she had wondered aloud if she would ever find out her identity. The mystery of Marcella would finally be solved.

The instructions were simple: someone, preferably Mr Stone would apparate with her to a specified place, then leave. If it had been any other child, he would not even have considered abandoning them, yet this girl was gifted, particularly in defensive charms. Being associates with Death Eaters, it would come as no surprise if the letter turned out to be a trap, yet few were able to get past her shields. He would return to the same spot two hours later to collect her. Nothing about the arrangement seemed unusual to the girl herself. She was more than used to it by now, for the few things which her mother had made sure of were that her daughter was raised by a pureblood family with connections to Death Eaters, but not members themselves, that she was home schooled, and that Marcella was to be her name.

It was only now that she knew she was soon to get answers did she realise how many questions she had, but the one which felt ready to burst from her already was "why". Why was she given away? Why was this specific lifestyle chosen for her? And why were her protective charms her best ones? She was sure that was inherited somehow, and she would find out that very night.

Just before Mr Stone left her in the dark country lane, she cast the strongest shields she knew around herself. She was taking no risks with her own life, other lives, they were disposable. She sat down on a flat topped boulder and waited. After a few minutes, the pop of an apparition was heard. Her curiosity was stamped out, as she saw the face of a woman from an article in the Daily Prophet only a few weeks ago. She recognised her as Bellatrix Lestrange, a powerful, devoted Death Eater. She was suddenly very aware that this woman would certainly break her charm, but it was too late to hide. She froze as dark eyes stared at her. They were the exact same as her own, as was the long, dark hair, and they even shared similar noses. Seeing her now, there was no doubt that they were mother and daughter.

"So you are my mother." Not a question, only a statement. There were enough queries without asking the obvious. Before a response could be given, she blurted out "Why is my name Marcella? Is it a family name?"

Bellatrix was stunned: out of everything she could ask, she asks about her name first? At least it was the one she had chosen herself. She remembered that they would be there for the next two hours, and went to sit by her daughter. She was impressed to find that there was a shield extending out a metre from the boulder. The girl was about to drop it, when the woman shook her head. An urge to see how strong it was took hold of her. A few simple charms did nothing, yet at fifteen that was expected. The intensity of the spells increased, until a rather nasty gash appeared on the road nest to the rock. Still, to hold off that amount of hexes was intriguing at that age. She sat down.

When the silence became too awkward, Marcella explained "Shields are my best charm. I like the independence they can give you. They make me feel safe, as if I do not need to keep a constant eye on everything around me…" She waited. Her mother said nothing. "I saw your photograph in the newspaper a few weeks ago. It said you had a husband. Why is he not here?"

The mention of him startled Bellatrix; of course the child would assume he was her father. Not all of that could be told now, but she finally realised how precious these minutes were, to both of them. Once she started talking, it was almost impossible to stop, which for her was a strange experience.

"Rodolphus is not your father," she confessed. She held up her hand to stop interruptions. "That part of the story is best kept for another day, until we know enough about each other. By now, you probably know why I could not look after you, and why I had you put into the care of the Stones. I could not risk letting Death Eaters look after you, in case they were caught. Marcella is your name, as mine means "warrior", and yours means "young warrior". I had hoped you would someday follow my lead. You looked so much like me, I could see you as a tiny version of myself, and at that point, I was ready to look after you. When we were caught by the Aurors, I was able to make arrangements for you. I blame Bartemius junior for all of those years, but for my Lord, I would have served twice as long. The thought of my own flesh and blood, of you, kept me somewhat sane. Rodolphus lost his mind completely after only a few weeks, and even now, I have no idea how his body is still going. My marriage," here she sounded bitter at the concept, "was one of convenience. My very own mother sold me off like a slave to another pure blood family. There was never any love lost between my husband and me. We were apart so often, and he is so lost that I doubt he evens know I have a child. Then again, almost no one knew I was pregnant. The Dark Lord was the only person I told, and that was only so that I could stay safe for your sake. If anyone else knows, it is only because he saw fit to tell them. Not even my family knows I have a daughter. I realised that until you were old enough to bear it, you would not need to be known as Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter. What would life have been like for you if people had known who you are? As far as I know, the Stones do not know either, so if this could be our secret, I think it could work to both our advantages." She stopped, waiting for some form of response. Marcella looked indifferent. She was doing what she always did when she did not want to show emotion, just a blank face and no words to give her away. She nodded at her mother in acquiescence.

The only question that remained was where the girl was to live now. They could find somewhere to live, if she wanted, or she could stay where she had been for the past fifteen years. She could not bring herself to make any sudden decisions, as she never did. A week to think about it was agreed upon. They would do the same thing as they had done that night, and if she was willing to live with Bellatrix, she would bring her belongings with her. The prospect of finally having a family, however small, was thrilling to her, but at the same time, this woman was a cold-blooded killer, completely devoted to a man who, if the rumours were true, was more dead than alive. The question of how so many Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban burned inside her, but she held her tongue. If, by the end of the week, they were living together, she would ask those sorts of questions then.

Marcella recalled how she returned home, and how she refused to tell her "parents" who her biological mother was. They were not surprised that she was given the choice of leaving them, and told her in no uncertain terms that they would not press her to stay or go. It was completely her own decision, which suited her perfectly. She had always been an independent child, simply give her the books and she would teach herself, give her the puzzle and she would figure it out alone, and even from the age of three she was dressing herself and choosing her own robes. There were no other children in the house to play with, and Mr and Mrs Stone both worked long hours at the Ministry; so really, there was no other way for her to turn out. They cared for her in their own way, a roof was put over her head, food was on the table, educational textbooks were provided, so she had everything except time with them. But this was not resented, she appreciated them, but her emotional ties went no further. Perhaps that was partly why it took her only two days to completely decide upon moving to live with her mother.

At first, it was difficult for both of them to trust the other, and know how to act around them. Bellatrix was seldom home, which suited Marcella just fine. They lived in a small house in the middle of nowhere, so there were no neighbours of either muggle or magic blood to notice their sometimes strange behaviour. It was understood by both that there was no need to draw attention to themselves. Occasionally they talked about what was happening in the outside world, as they had the Daily Prophet delivered under the girl's name. Marcella soon found out that the Dark Lord was truly back, and it was thanks to him that she had her mother. Along with being raised on respect for his name, it was evident that she would join him when she became of age.

But firstly, she had to go through with the exams which her old carers had set for her. She visited them for long enough to take her OWLs, then left again. They asked no questions, for they knew there would be no answers. She returned for the last time only a few weeks earlier to collect her results. She felt as though she could have done better in some, yet her seven "Outstanding" and four "Exceeds Expectations" grades were satisfactory to Bellatrix. And now, at the prospect of going to Hogwarts, she remembered that she would need to decide on her NEWTs soon.

In the morning, a list was made out of what Marcella would need, and she set off for Diagon Alley alone. The paperwork for school was sent through the Stones, and she had applied for seven subjects: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Defence against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Astronomy. For some of them, all she needed was textbooks, while for others; she needed what seemed like a mountain of equipment.

It was Saturday; the train would leave the next day to drag her away to a new lifestyle yet again, so she took her time, revelling in the freedom of being able to walk down the streets at her leisure. Granted, she saw posters everywhere of her mother's face, along with what she referred to as her "work colleagues", and people looked nervous to stall for more than a few seconds. The only place which appeared to have any life about it was a joke shop. Tacky, she thought, and tactless too. Posters mocking her allegiance were spread across the brightly coloured window displays, dissuading her from entering. She was above petty pranks anyway.

A quick visit to Borgin and Burkes before she left was mandatory, the wares always held some sort of fascination for her, and whichever attendant was behind the till was always pleased to see her, and general conversation about this necklace or that skull was engaged often enough. Nothing caught her eye at the time, so she left just as a pale blonde boy, looking as though he did not want to be seen, entered. She took no notice, for if he did not want attention, she would not give it to him. Walking back up, she could have sworn she heard voices muttering in the air. However, she was in Knockturn Alley, and she had heard stranger things there many times before. She collected her uniform, including the silver and green tie, and returned home. There was a lot of work to be done before she left in the morning.

She spent most of the afternoon packing her clothes and school things into a wooden trunk, painted black, with her first name engraved on top. She enjoyed tracing the hollowed out letters, it made it feel more like it was her own property, like she had branded it. That was something she did often when she was bored or nervous, she would write her name on spare parchment, carve it into surfaces, or even use her long nails to trace into her palms. She cast her eyes around her bedroom, and summoned various objects, candles, her jewellery box, books, along with the remaining clothes folded on her bed. There would be no need for goodbyes before she left for the train, as her mother would not be there. She had to leave that evening on urgent business, so the girl had her last night at home to herself. It gave her a chance to let go of any regrets she had while she was there, Hogwarts was a fresh start, like Bellatrix had said. It was easy for her to leave, having no emotional ties to the place.

The next morning, she shrank her trunk to the size of a shoe box, and flooed to the station. She was ready to go, and without a backwards glance, she stepped onto the train. Her mission was clear, and that was all the information she needed.

Part II

Marcella was on her way, to what she did not know. Having never been to school before, she had no ideas about how to act, what to do, or what living with so many other people would be like. She strode along the corridor, stopping to enter an empty compartment. Taking a book out of her still tiny trunk, she spent the entire journey alone, just as she liked it. A few times, people came into the room, but seeing her unfamiliar face coupled with a Slytherin crest stopped them from staying too long. She did not expect anyone to be stupid enough to try and talk to her, as she knew quite well that the aura of hostility around her was not their imaginations. With her dark features, prominent cheekbones and cold stare, she was not an approachable person in general. It would be tolerable if the year continued like this for her.

The coach ride up to the school was slightly amusing. She managed to jump into one just before it took off, silencing the chatty second year Hufflepuffs inside. Her book was still in her hand, so she was able to occupy herself, while the others looked at each other with wary glances at her, when they thought she could not see them. She was the first to disembark when the carriage stopped.

For the first time in her life, she was forced to follow a crowd, as she did not know where to go. Somehow, in amongst all of the other students, a teacher with sallow skin and dark hair was able to find her, pulling her to one side. She could tell immediately who he was, and regarded him silently. He spoke in a low voice. "I have had to make some very special arrangements for you. I believe you know who made the request for you to come here, and although I do not question him, I will make these next two years painful for you if you draw unwanted attention to yourself or me."

The girl tried not to laugh; did he think she wished for attention? "Of course, Severus, whatever you say. Now where do I have to go?" She tried to brush past him, as he had cornered her against the cold stone wall.

He grabbed her arm. "Firstly, you will address all staff as "sir", "miss" or "professor". Secondly, have some respect for the chain of authority, including my position as your Head of House. And thirdly, when you enter those doors, sit at the first table you reach. After the feast, you have to come to my office. The headmaster wishes to talk to you in the morning, and it seems that I need to instruct you on how to behave."

Marcella did not see anything wrong with her behaviour, yet apparently she did not have a choice. He was giving her the opportunity to ask questions about the next two years of her life, and she was going to make full use of that time. Following the crowd of students, she did as instructed, sitting down at the end of the table. As expected, she was not spoken to, only looked at curiously. She ate silently, observing her fellow Slytherins with mild interest. It was interesting to watch them interact, as they clearly were not on good terms with the rest of the school, and she could see why. The different conversation she heard almost all contained some sort of insult aimed at one of the other houses, or about what trouble they got into over the summer. Once it was evident that she had no interest in talking with any of them, the other students eventually ceased to look at her.

At one point, a dark haired boy sped past the table, clearly not wanting to be seen. From what she could make out, it was the famous Harry Potter, the one boy she was keen to avoid, for the obvious reason that, although he clearly would not know it, they were enemies. Not long after, the headmaster stood up again. She had decided that she could respect him as a powerful wizard, yet at the same time, had no desire to like him as a person. When he dismissed the pupils, she had barely stood up and Snape was standing behind her. They exchanged a look and she followed him, to his office as she came to learn.

"Now, although the Dark Lord was asked not to reveal your parentage, I know that until recently, the Stones were indeed your adoptive your parents. I also know that you live with your birth mother. Miss Stone, who is your mother?" He studied her carefully, and surely enough, she felt a sensation that Bellatrix had warned her against. Rather than making it seem like she was blocking his occlumency, she fixed her thoughts on her adoptive mother. He gave up after a few moments. "I see you are not willing to give up your secrets easily. Sit down." She resented being ordered around, but then remembered that this was how it would be like for months to come. She sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, and rather than taking his own seat, Snape perched himself at the edge of his desk, directly in front of her.

"Breakfast is served from 8 every morning. Classes begin at 9; lunch is then from 12 until 1. Classes in the afternoon run from 1 until 4. Dinner lasts until 5. You will spend most of your time in your dormitory or common room. Students are obliged to not be wandering around the corridors after 10. Do you understand?" She nodded once. "After breakfast tomorrow morning, I am distributing all sixth and seventh year Slytherins with their timetables. I suggest you find out who is in which of your chosen subjects, and accompany them to class until you know your way around." He leaned further towards her, looming over her disinterested face. "If you ever need any assistance, my office door is always open to any pupil from my house, especially the older ones." His eyes finally left her own, instead looking her over.

Marcella ignored the scrutiny. "Are you insinuating something, sir?" She asked the question with a raised eyebrow.

He appeared momentarily shocked, as if he had not realised what he had just said, but recovered quickly. "Only that sometimes it is the older, rather than the younger students, who have more difficulties." He stood up, and striding over to the door, he motioned for her to follow. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and went along to her common room. She made a mental note of how to reach the office from there, and vowed to avoid that corridor.

Stepping inside, she glanced around. She remembered her mother telling her that all the girls from the same year group had to share a room, so she took a guess at who she thought may be the same age as her. Strolling up to the armchairs by the fire, she addressed a pale blond girl, who did not appear to be pleased to be interrupted in her conversation with a few other girls, who looked much younger than herself. Marcella decided she ought to be polite, enemies could be made later. "Excuse me, but are you in sixth year? This is my first day here, and I do not know where my dormitory is." The other girls sniggered, and the one on the receiving end of the question looked annoyed.

"Yes I am, but who is asking?" She eyed Marcella, trying to make out if she was a threat to her or not.

"Marcella Stone. And you are…?"

"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. Go down the left staircase, and it is the room at the very bottom. Now if you do not mind…" She continued talking to the other girls, and seemingly forgot that Marcella was there at all.

Walking away, she thought to herself that at least she got an answer out of the girl. Her miniscule trunk was sitting on top of her bed, which she then returned to its normal size. She could not bear to be in the uniform longer than necessary, so she changed into one of her many t-shirts with a skull motif on front, and a pair of loose jeans which sat low on her hips. She was relieved to be able to dress however she wanted when she moved away from the Stones' house. They used to make her wear matching sweater and skirt combinations constantly, which irritated her. When Bellatrix saw her clothes, she promptly told her to burn the lot and buy more appropriate clothes. Marcella found that muggle clothes, denim and leather items in particular, appealed to her. They were the only things from the muggle world that she would admit she liked. Her mother approved of her daughter's fondness for black, although could never understand why she hated robes so much. Robes were fine every once in a while, or if they were necessary, but jeans were much easier to move in.

She unpacked and collapsed onto the four-poster bed. Her thick dark hair splayed across the emerald material of the pillow. After only a few minutes of lying still, she could take it no longer. Sitting up, she practised opening and closing the curtains, summoning her belongings and snooping around her roommates' things. Nothing interesting was to be found. By the time someone came into the room, she had conjured a snake out of a piece of rope, and was watching it slither around her limbs and through her hair. She glanced up when she heard the door open, and immediately turned her attention back to the toy.

The other girl spoke. "I saw you talking to Pansy earlier. You're Marcella, right? I'm Daphne Greengrass. Did you bring that snake with you?" She looked wary, as she knew it would be impossible to get the animal into the school.

There was silence for a while, finally a response was given. "No, I made him. It is only a toy, a piece of rope. Do you want to see him? He will not bite," she explained with a grin. She may as well be friendly with some of the others. Daphne walked over to inspect the animal. Soon he was entwined in her fingers, as Marcella explained the charm. "And a simple _finite incantatem_ will stop it." Surely enough, a length of rope fell onto the bed.

For a while, the girls talked about Hogwarts, as there was much to learn about life there. They briefly discussed the teachers, at which point Snape came into the conversation. Daphne admitted that he was a creep, but he always had a soft spot for his own students. She was shocked to hear what he had said earlier in his office, and agreed that it sounded like he was indeed insinuating something pretty much illegal, not to mention, as she put it, "gross". The girls were in a few of the same classes. They spent a lot of time discussing the other pupils. Apparently Harry Potter had attracted a lot of attention since he started at Hogwarts, but Marcella did not really care, and Daphne did not like talking about him. However, the former had not known that he was the same age as her, and would most likely end up in some of her classes. This was an irritating piece of news to her. From the descriptions, she was sure she would be able to recognise the rest of the sixth year Slytherins, including Draco, who she was eager to meet, if only for the sake of finding out what her mother had meant.

When the other girls came into the dorm, they stopped talking and instead went to bed. Marcella asked them to make sure she woke up in the morning, as she was not used to getting up early. She did not realise that she was a rather light sleeper until later that night.

The room was ebony black, as dark as Marcella's eyes. She stirred and gripped her wand under her pillow, as she thought she could hear movement, but said nothing. Male whispers echoed through the otherwise silent room. Someone stumbled. They must have bounced off her shield charm. She bit her lip to stifle her laughter as one of them cursed. Casting a silent disillusionment charm on herself, she crawled to the end of her bed to watch the boys. The only thing she could make out was shining white-blond hair moving around, everything else was too dark. It passed close to the end of her bed, and she blew where she guessed the back of its neck would be. It jumped and swerved to look in her direction, but could see nothing. Had she not been under the charm, she was sure her porcelain skin would have been seen. They appeared to have finished what they were doing, and she heard the door close softly.

Curious, she dropped her charms and lit her wand. The ground was moving? Her wand grew brighter and her eyes grew wider, as she realised the floor was covered in bugs. Cockroaches. The dark eyes narrowed. Calling the other girls' names softly, they woke, and she asked them to stay in bed, light their wands and try not to scream. They did as she asked, except Pansy could not help but scream for a split second, before she was hit with a silencing spell. They could not give the boys the satisfaction.

Marcella gazed at the floor, then at Daphne, with a sly grin. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?" inquired Daphne. They both carefully slipped out of bed and hovered the entire swarm of bugs into the air. Walking behind the floating mass of black, they made their way to the sixth year boys' dorm, where they could hear voices talking, but no light could be seen through the cracks in the door. They eased the door open as the cockroaches crawled through. For added effect, the two girls took control of some of the bugs, and made them crawl into the beds and trunks. As they hurried back to their own room, they could hear yells of "kill them" and various swear words from the boys.

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Well, how bad was it? Don't spare my feelings!


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to anybody who has reviewed so far! I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this plot, so bear with me, please. Yet again, I own none of this, with the exception of the plot and Marcella.

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The next morning, the girls all woke within a few minutes of each other, eager to see what had happened to the cockroaches. Dressing quickly, they peered into the boys' dorm room, trying not to wake them, for none were even stirring. Clearly they had not had the sense for a vanishing spell, as there were remains of shells and insides strewn about the floor and somehow, the curtains and walls. Despite the early hour, Marcella's brain was already concocting another plan. Tiptoeing further into the room, she cast another simple hovering charm, this time on the boys' uniforms. Letting them fall onto the material atop the respective beds, she motioned for the girls to retreat. They all waited in the common room, eager to hear the reactions. The only one not pleased about their retaliation was Pansy, who was currently under a full body bind and silencing charm to stop her from warning her favourite Slytherins.

As they chatted quietly amongst themselves, they could hear the rest of the house waking and moving around, and were concerned that they would not be able to make out how the boys felt when they realised their clothes had disappeared. Their fears were for nothing.

After they themselves had been awake for over half an hour, they could pick up the sounds of confused yells. Pansy began to look more worried through her rigid skin. Her eyes were screaming out "Draco! Draco! I can help you!" but he would not hear her until it was too late. Heavy footfalls echoed up the boys' staircase.

From last night's conversation, Marcella was able to recognise the furious half-naked teenager as Blaise Zabini, due to his dark chocolate skin and fine cheekbones. But as he was only in emerald boxers, none of the girls were looking at them or his face in general. From Pansy's eyes, you could tell she was not thinking about how her poor Draco was doing without his attire, then again, she was probably hoping for a similar appearance from the blond bombshell himself.

Blaise glared directly at Daphne and demanded their clothes back, and despite looking like that, he did actually intimidate her. Marcella, the brains of the operation, spoke up. "But you have your clothes. We did not take them. They are in your room, if you would just look properly. Oh, and thank you for the little present last night, unfortunately, as you saw, we had to return it." She smirked at him.

He realised that she had, in fact, insulted him and made retaliation. "Who the Hell are you? I didn't realise Slytherin let just about anybody in these days." His glare was now on her, eyeing her evilly.

Marcella laughed. "I, my darling, am Marcella Stone. And it is pretty evident that you are Blaise, so need to introduce yourself, as I am certain you were about to. Now if you will excuse us, we have been up for quite some time, and would rather like to go for breakfast." She swiftly stood up and turned away from him, towards the door. Daphne followed her, not even bothering to disguise her laughter.

Over breakfast, they quickly realised that they were in a few of the same classes, which included first period Defence. Going back almost exactly the same route as they had come up for breakfast, Daphne agreed to give her a tour of the school that evening, so that she would be able to get to classes easily enough the next day. For now, she would need her guide.

Marcella was not looking forward to seeing her Head of House again. After his odd behaviour at their previous meeting along with her inherited distaste for him, she felt as though the closer she got to his classroom, the closer she got to the kind of Hell she did not enjoy. She had received an "Outstanding" for her Defence OWL, and had no intentions of letting her personal standards slip due to her relationship with her professor. Most of the pupils were standing outside, waiting nervously. Apparently Snape had sought this job every year, and only after so many years of teaching Potions, he had finally gotten his own way. Marcella suspected blackmail was involved, as she would expect nothing less from the incompetent spy.

Entering the room, she cast her eyes around the walls, taking in the sight of the posters with suppressed amusement. She knew most of them in theory, and could cast a few, much to the delight of her mother. She followed Daphne to the back of the room, sitting behind her. As she looked up from setting her bag on the ground, she tensed. Harry Potter was in her class, sitting directly to her left. She knew that he would choose this subject, but to make the grievous mistake of taking the seat beside her, he had sealed his own fate.

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He did not recognise her in the least, which surprised him. He thought he knew all of the pupils in Hogwarts by now, even if only in passing. This girl was a mystery. Thick black curls, pale, perfect skin, with eyes almost black. She reminded him vaguely of a vampire. Yet there was something about her face that seemed slightly familiar. Perhaps it was the prominent cheekbones, or the way her mouth was in a near constant sly smirk, but something made him think he had seen her before, or she greatly resembled someone he had met. He would ask Hermione. That was what he always did when he did not know the answer to something.

"Hey 'Mione, who's the girl on my right? Is she new?" he whispered. He did not want to be overheard by her fellow Slytherins. The Gryffindor know-it-all simply shrugged. Harry was shocked - a question Hermione could not answer? What was happening here? But he had no time to ponder further, Snape had started talking, droning on in his creepy yet hypnotic voice.

Marcella was only giving half of her attention to his speech, as she knew perfectly well what "Dark Arts" most of the students were supposed to be defending themselves against. She let her gaze follow him, to give an appearance of interest, yet mostly looking at the pictures behind him. She sighed at the mention of non-verbal spells, if they had to do something she was well familiar with, her poor partner would have no chance. Thankfully, she had a chance to warn Daphne of this before the other girl had to attempt to jinx her. The Stones had thought non-verbal the easiest way to learn many spells, so she had been forced to practise them from an early age, and it had formed into a habit. Keeping up a simple "protego" charm, she found herself once again peering around at her fellow students. Tall and very dark - Blaise. White blond and pale - this must be her first glimpse of Draco. She could not see his face from her seat.

A thundering crash from behind her killed her train of thought. Her head spun around to the sight of Snape staggering away from an askew desk, his expression murderous. "Do you remember me telling you we are practising non-verbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes" Harry responded, looking defiant.

"Yes sir," Snape corrected him, with particular emphasis on the last word.

"There's no need to call me "sir", Professor." As soon as Harry let the words slip, he appeared to be preparing himself for a vocal avalanche. A few people gasped, who were mostly Slytherins, yet Marcella tried not to laugh. At least her enemy had a sense of humour, and shared her dislike for their teacher and authority in general. But she was not here to be amused, she was here to finish her education, then join her mother again. She quickly lost interest, and whilst everyone was distracted by the exchange between teacher and pupil, she hovered Harry's timetable out of his bag, to see what other classes they shared. She wanted to stab something - he would be in her Charms, Potions and Transfiguration classes too. She would have to find a way of ignoring him. The bell for the end of class rang, just as the piece of paper slipped back into Harry's schoolbag.

The rest of the day passed without excitement. Marcella made sure to sit as far away from The Enemy as possible, yet no matter where she moved, eyes were always staring at her. Hogwarts apparently did not receive new students very often, so naturally, everyone knew about her by lunch time. She was indifferent to the attention, although she did find it rather odd that The Enemy continued to stare, long after he had surely heard everything there was to tell. Well, not everything, but all that the general public of the school knew. She was fairly intelligent, fairly quiet and fairly beautiful, by all accounts. Yet Marcella knew that her hostility towards most students would not go unnoticed. She only ever spoke to her fellow Slytherins, the girls who shared her dorm in particular. Daphne gave her the tour, as promised. The hallways were silent in comparison to during the day. As they did not take long, she managed to get most of her homework done that night. It was only as she was lying in bed that night that she realised she had not yet seen Draco. If she was going to do as her mother asked, she would have to remedy the situation quickly.

Tuesday morning. Marcella knew that she ought to make her move. Faking a façade of shyness, she turned to her friend. "Daphne, I think I should get to know the people in our year better. Everyone already knows everyone else, and it makes me feel odd, being the only one in the dark." She did not mention that it was only one pupil she was truly interested in, for her mother's sake.

"Sure," the other girl replied, smiling. She was possibly the only Slytherin who you could count on to smile often, due to her positive outlook. No one was really quite sure how she got into that particular house, but then again, no one dared ask. Clearly she had a darker side, and as there were quite enough evidently dark people, it was nice to have someone to lift the mood at times. Her appearance did not give much away on either account: thick, long hair, a shade somewhere between brown and red, eyes greener than a cat's and a slim body which looked like she could be blown away quite easily by the wind. "Do you want to start with the guys in our year? Makes the most sense to me, and I know them better than the rest." She finished with a wink and a giggle. A simple nod was the response. Jumping up from her bed into an obviously straight-backed position, Daphne commanded they start right away.

Luckily for the two girls, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting beside the fire, waiting on Draco. Daphne bounced over to the two boys and made the introductions, refusing to let anyone else speak. "Marcella, this is Vincent Crabbe. Vincent, this is Marcella Stone." She said the exact same thing with reference to Goyle, and then explained to her new friend that the boys only ever get called by their last names. She only used them to annoy them. "They do not talk much anyway," she stage-whispered to Marcella. The boys did not take any notice. "Are you waiting for Draco?" Daphne was still smiling. No response. "Okay. We can wait too, and you can meet him. These two are kind of his body guards."

A cold voice came from behind her. "You think I need body guards, Daphne?" She spun, that smile never once fading, to better see the boy. "No," she said slowly, "which is why I said "kind of"." Turning to Marcella, she elaborated. "They follow him around, look to him as a figure head, you know the idea." Marcella did not point out that she had no clue what the girl was talking about anymore.

"Oh yeah!" Jumping up, which appeared to be her preferred mode of movement today, she dragged Draco by his wrist closer to the other girl. Gesturing to each of them when she said their names, she chanted off "Marcella, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Marcella Stone." Daphne looked pleased with herself.

Marcella inspected the standing boy. He was as pale as she was, whereas his hair was as light as hers was dark. Yet they shared a common coldness to their eyes, his silver ones never quite leaving her face. She suspected he was sizing her up, just the same as she was doing. She felt like she ought to say something. "Your name is Draco, from the Latin "draconis", meaning "dragon", yes? It is uncannily suitable for a Slytherin. I put a lot of store by people's names. For example, "Daphne" is Greek for a laurel tree, and it was also the name of a mythical water nymph. Nymphs were infamous for their playful natures, and Miss Greengrass is of the same temperament." Said girl looked impressed by this piece of information.

Draco retaliated "What does your name mean then?"

She had expected him to ask that. "Marcella is also Latin, meaning "young warrior". I rather hope to be able to live up to my name. What about you? Have you got the fiery temper of a dragon?" She smirked at him; still not sure of what he had to do with the Dark Lord. "Or is it the strength of one that you possess? Perhaps it is neither, rather the thick skin?" She was determined to get a reaction from him, for his face betrayed nothing, much like her own.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Daphne butted in, clearly worried for the girl's safety. "Marcella, let's go get breakfast." Tugging on the sleeve of her robes, she dragged her away. "What did you say that for?" she hissed. "His dad is a really high up Death Eater, and you can bet he taught him a few tricks for beating girls. I mean, his mum is as frail as anything. I always see her at the platform, and she looks permanently terrified of her husband. Draco takes after both of them, you know. All three of them have the exact same colour of hair. Weird isn't it? I mean, his parents married someone who looks exactly like themselves. It cannot really be helped though, decent pure bloods are hard to come by, and they were bound to be related in some way already. At the rate it is going these days, I would not be surprised if they were first cousins. A lot of those families, like the Malfoys, like to do that. Keep it in the family, as the phrase goes. It is not like it is our fault – we have to be slightly inbred. As if we would ever marry muggles! Personally, I would not even consider a half-blood."

Marcella stared at her, astounded. "Daphne, you are sixteen, and already you are thinking about getting married? Live your life first, settle down later. As for me, I do not ever see myself getting married at all." It was Daphne's turn to look shocked, but she said nothing, simply shaking her head and concentrating on her breakfast.

On the opposite side of the Great Hall, Harry Potter was staring off into space again. At least, that was what he appeared to be doing to Hermione. He could not possibly be deliberately looking at the Slytherin table, so he must be daydreaming. Waving her fork in front of his eyes, she realised they were not vacant, so he was consciously staring at something. Perhaps he was back to admiring Cho? The Ravenclaw was nowhere to be seen. He had another crush then? Hermione sighed. If only he would figure out that, in his case, girls were more trouble than they were worth. And it appeared to her that boys were too much hassle full stop. Ron was tolerable for now, but he was sure to do something silly in the next few weeks, which would render them incapable of speaking to one another. That was just how their relationship went these days, and she could not do anything to change it anymore. He was beyond her help. In the meantime, Harry had snapped out of his staring, after Hermione had unknowingly hit him in the nose with the aforementioned fork.

"Ow, 'Mione, what was that for?" He did not look pleased, as he clutched his nose in fake pain.

"Harry," she said in her constant matter-of-fact tone, "you were staring at something or someone, and I am sure they do not appreciate it. Not to mention, your breakfast is getting rather cold. Out of curiosity, what were you staring at?" She tried, and failed, to sound innocent.

Somehow he did not notice. "The new girl." Hermione sighed. Yes, even she could notice that the girl was pretty, especially by Slytherin standards. But what she did not understand was why she did not have to be sorted with the first years. She was perceptive enough to notice that Marcella had arrived wearing the Slytherin tie and crest, but noticing things did not make it easier. If they did not get into another crazy adventure this year, Hermione was sure that this mystery would be enough to satiate Harry's need to avoid school work. He was already fixated on Malfoy, so why not another Slytherin too? No doubt he would soon accuse the poor girl of being a Death Eater in training. Harry's voice broke her out of her own thoughts.

"She reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who! She just looks so familiar – not like I've met her before, but someone really close to her, like a sister or brother." He munched angrily on his cold toast, frustrated at not being able to piece his puzzle together. "Have you any idea who she looks like?" That was directed at anyone who would listen, meaning Ron.

"No clue mate. Wish I could help though." Ron was looking bored. He had finished his food ages ago, and was tired of waiting for the other two to move. He had resorted to marching his knife and fork up and down the side of the table, like two little stick figures you might see a child play with.

Draco Malfoy had finally calmed down enough to go up for his own food. Blaise had explained that Marcella enjoyed taunting him as well, so clearly she was only offending him to not show favouritism. However, that did not stop Draco from being confused. He was used to every single Slytherin girl throwing themselves at his feet; he was too used to being adored that it felt strange to be insulted by one of them. Not to mention, she looked so familiar to him. There was something about her which made him think he knew her, but he was not quite sure what it was, as it was deeper than physical similarities. The way she carried herself, the way she moved, the way she spoke all seemed to be a copy of someone he knew. Yet he could not imagine her deliberately taking on another person's traits. From their brief meeting, he could tell she was too independent for that.

Further down the table, Marcella was discreetly looking at Draco through her hair. He was a spoiled, pampered, rich boy. That much Daphne could tell her. Her personal impressions were that he was taken by surprise by her; perhaps he was so used to getting his own way. No matter what, she was not intimidated by the fact that his parents were Death Eaters, as if they could outrank her mother, the Dark Lord's most devoted servant ever. She could just imagine Bellatrix duelling against two tiny blond figures, easily torturing them with her favourite curse. She grinned into herself, just as Daphne shook her, saying they should get moving, or else they would be late for class.

The morning passed without complaint. As Marcella left Ancient Runes, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She gave the girl as look which clearly told her never to touch her again. Black eyes took in the other girl's physique: brown, bushy hair, rather small for her age, with a schoolbag bursting with textbooks. She recognised her as one of those Gryffindors who accompanied The Enemy everywhere. She stared at her impatiently, silently telling her to speak quickly or lose the ability to speak.

"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. I just thought I would say "hi". I noticed you are in a lot of my classes. What do you think of the assignment we got? I think a foot of parchment is not nearly enough to-" Marcella held up her hand to stop the girl's incessant chattering.

"You said what you wanted to say, Hermione, was it? It is an apt name for a Potter fan girl. You would need to be steadfast to stick with him." She turned away and strode off to lunch, leaving the bookworm looking confused.

Marcella sighed as she sat down beside Daphne. "Why must people be so inquisitive? Can they not learn to stay out of other people's lives? Especially when said person clearly wants nothing to do with them!" Her friend looked confused, but was too busy with her food to ask. "Why would a Gryffindor assume they can just come up and ambush me?" Putting on a high-pitched voice, she said "Hi, I'm Hermione, I love homework so much, and I need to write too much for every single piece! Do you want to join the Harry Potter fan club?" She stabbed at the food on her plate.

Daphne laughed at the idea of any Slytherin joining up with Potter. "Poor you, Hermione is really annoying, isn't she? She comes top in every class, with Draco right behind her. I really hope some day he beats her. She thinks she is amazing at everything when it comes to school, and all of the teachers love her, apart from Snape. In our fourth year, she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum! But everyone knows that was a love spell, as if she could actually be asked out by an international Quidditch player! Not to mention, she's a muggle-born." Daphne enjoyed giving all of this information, it was not really gossiping, as everyone knew it all. She was just giving her the facts. Marcella looked disgusted to know that she had just been talking to a muggle-born, despite her apparently good magical abilities.

Hermione sat down, still rather flustered. "Harry, I think you should stop staring at Marcella, she is so rude! Harry? Harry!" She contemplated hitting him with a fork again, but poked him with her finger instead. "Are you listening to me? Marcella Stone is the rudest girl I have ever met! I would say person, but Malfoy is slightly worse than her." She continued to huff in silence.

The name "Malfoy" brought Harry out of his staring. "Hermione, you tried to talk to a Slytherin like a normal person. They all hate me, and they know you are one of my best friends, so obviously she was hardly going to hug you and say "let's be friends forever". Plus, she is probably a pure-blood who was raised to hate, um, certain people." He was going to finish the sentence differently, but Hermione's glaring stopped him.

Anyway, he would not take her advice for once, as he had still not figured out who she reminded him of, and he was determined to find out. What he did not realise was that another person was trying to do exactly the same thing, and Marcella had no intentions of being found out. Her mother was depending on her to do a job, and she was going to do it, no matter what happened. Unfortunately, it appeared that Draco was not happy with her, and she needed to gain his trust. Bellatrix had not been specific to a time scale, but to be sure, she would get working very soon. First she needed a plan.

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I will admit, I had a lot of fun writing about the Golden Trio. I love Hermione dearly, but she's fun to make fun of. Beware, I don't hold back on the Harry bashing! Reviews are highly welcomed, as per.


	3. Chapter 3

So this has been sitting around deviantART for ages. I managed to neglect my account here, so we have 2 chapters at once. As always: I own nothing but Marcella. My ownership of plot is questionable, for I'm sure this idea has been done to death by now!

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Marcella had been thinking about what to do for almost a week. School work had been distracting her. There was no time to make elaborate plans, so she was forced to go back to basics, and try something simple. Having excelled at her OWLs in all of her chosen subjects, there was no way of coyly asking for help with homework, like Daphne had suggested. The more vivacious girl did not ask why Marcella wanted to talk to Draco, she simply accepted the fact that she did. Most girls wanted to get closer to the supposed sex god.

The only plan she could come up with was one she did not really want to have to carry out, as it involved one of her least favourite people, yet it was the best idea she had thought of. After yet another tedious DADA class, she packed up slowly, thankful that for once the Gryffindor know-it-all had managed to drag The Enemy out quickly. Approaching Snape's desk, she applied a neutral expression to her features. "Sir," he looked up from the first year Hufflepuff's papers, red ink scored across each page. She began again. "Sir, I think I need a new partner. I am sure you will agree that Goyle and I are simply not… compatible. He manages to obtain mediocre marks, yet you have seen my scores and my class work. I ought to be working with someone more within my range. I feel as though it would help me strive for even better. There is no competition between him and I. Please, if you pair me with someone more suitable, I am sure we will both try harder, no doubt in an attempt to beat each other." She appeared expectant, but inside she was almost regretting what she had just said. If he took her advice, it may backfire on her. She could be paired with the know-it-all instead, which would possibly kill her or the other girl. Preferably the other girl.

Snape appeared to actually think for once. His usually blasé demeanour had been switched to one of contemplation. He knew that Draco had been lacking in motivation since the beginning of term, and he did not want his godson's marks to suffer because of the task appointed to him. "Miss Stone, I see your point. Competition is encouraged within Hogwarts, especially between houses. Yet, unless you can truly convince me that you need this, I see no reason to rob Goyle of his partner." Just like every other time she was standing face to face with him, she felt the probing sensation of occlumency, which she easily countered. He was giving her all too many opportunities to practise. Yet although his mind was focused on hers, his eyes were not. He was distinctly looking her over, just as he had done that first night in his office. She had thought it decidedly creepy at the time, and this feeling of uneasiness increased as he emphasised the word "convince". Although she had led an extremely sheltered childhood, she had read enough books on every topic to know that his expression was one of some form of animalistic need, one which he wanted her to satiate. Still, she held her ground, trying to think of anything to throw him off balance. The first thing that popped into her head was her mother, yet she quickly banished that thought and instead concentrated on another memory. Every time she had successfully blocked a spell from Mr Stone flitted through her brain, in an attempt to show him that she was no defenceless teenage girl. The barrage of images forced him to retreat from her head.

He knew she was trying to play games with him, yet he could not call her out on it, for then she would ask why he wanted inside her… mind. He decided that, for now, she was best to keep as an ally. "Very well Miss Stone, as I see no ulterior motive for you needing a new partner, with the exception of making Mr Goyle feel unwanted, I see no reason to deny your request. But I will choose who you work with. Now, if you please, I need to finish marking these." He made a swooping gesture to the parchment in front of him, then to the door. She took the hint and went off to lunch.

One uneventful lunch later, and she was putting the second part of her plan into action. Professor Slughorn was a pushover for talent, everybody knew that. Although she may not have the connections he valued in others, he knew of her adoptive parents, but did not put much stock by them. He was clearly after blood bonds. Then again, she was still invited to be part of his Slugclub, which at first she had declined. This was about to change. Despite Draco not being involved with the group, Blaise was. She could always use his friends to get close to him. Admittedly, her plan did have its faults. The Enemy and the know-it-all were also in his favourites. What was the old adage? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? At least now she would be able to study Harry with more scrutiny than in class, and there would be no reason for Hermione to be such a brainbox when there were no questions to be answered. One of the traits that Marcella truly despised in people was smugness, which she could see The Bushy One had in abounds. She almost felt sorry for the other part of their trio. She heard he was a Weasley, pure blood but in love with muggles. He did not even register as a minor threat, so had no need for a nickname, especially not one with capital letters. The other one would do, considering that he was neither talented nor brave, in fact, he seemed to have no personality whatsoever, or about as much of one as a teaspoon.

Luckily for the plan, Slughorn was planning on one of his little parties that weekend, and asked Marcella to attend. Much to everyone's surprise, she agreed. Just as she said yes, she could feel somebody watching her. Swivelling around in her chair quickly, she caught The Enemy's eyes with her usual hostile glare. She smirked at his "deer caught in headlights" expression. Behind his round glasses, his eyes were just as circular, his mouth open in surprise at being caught staring. She turned back to the front of the room, just as Harry himself was asked if he would be joining them for the soirée. He blurted out "yes" without even thinking. A few giggles erupted from the Slytherins, as Hermione gazed at him curiously. Clearly afraid for her companion's mental health, she agreed also, if only to see what was wrong with him. The other one sat sulking at the end of their desk, but nobody noticed, as nobody ever notices him anyway. It was a wonder he never had any attention deficit disorders. The party could not come quickly enough for her.

The next night, having carried out the first stage of her plan successfully on a Friday, she was getting ready to put the rest into action. She had been forced to ask Daphne for help on what to wear, as the last time she had been to any sort of thing with other people was those dull dinner parties the Stones used to throw for their friends and bosses at the Ministry. Of course, at the time, she would have been forced to wear horrible frilly cocktail dresses, which were part of the huge bonfire of clothes that Bellatrix had ordered her to construct. She did not miss them. Unfortunately, she did not think she had bought anything suitable to wear. So Daphne, under the impression that her friend would want to impress the others, suggested her Victorian style black corset with a full skirt. Thinking the outfit completely over the top, she changed the skirt to tight black jeans. She would rather intimidate the others with the obscene amount of studs on the waistline of the denim than "impress" them. Adding her usual outside of class Egyptian style eyeliner, she was ready to go.

Arriving at Slughorn's front door, she could hear music coming from within. Clearly in a bid to win over the young students, he was playing a popular radio station, with The Weird Sisters blaring out. When he opened to door, the volume increased dramatically. "Sorry, m'dear, the muffling spells don't seem to be having too much effect. I expect you can hear the music from the hall? Never mind. Come in, come in." He gestured with one of his fairly large hands, and all but grabbed her to keep the noise in. She had a distinct impression that another teacher had been complaining about it.

Inside his office was a mêlée of colour and activity. Apparently he had not narrowed down his selection yet, for she estimated there were at least 20 students crammed on and around the ridiculous amount of furniture, of which nothing matched, between ottoman chests and plastic stools, to upholstered foot rests and iron dining chairs. It almost seemed like a bazaar from every age, but she was not here to criticise his décor, she was here to carry out her plan.

Professor Slughorn waved his wand at the radio, turning down the volume. He then announced that if everyone would follow him please, they would be seated for the first course. Surprisingly, given the apparent lack of organisation, they each had their own place settings at the large circular table. The house elves must have been working overtime in order to get all of it ready. Marcella cast her eyes around, praying to be seated beside her fellow Slytherins, who would know better than to try and engage her in conversation. Much to her delight, whoever had set the table had thought to do so, for she was set between Blaise and somebody Belby, whom she had no idea of his house or anything at all, really. Hoping that above all he was not a Gryffindor, she sat down.

The ever-confident Marcella was beginning to become a little concerned. Although she did not feel out of place, most having arrived in jeans, not knowing what to expect, Blaise had still not shown up. Her plan would be at a standstill if she could not count on getting closer to him. She almost regretted the first time she had talked to him, taunting him like that, for now it would make things harder to repair, and even more so if she was not given the opportunity to do so. She could appreciate that she clearly offended him, yet she had to do all she could to carry out her mother's orders.

She peeked at who was to sit at the other side of Blaise, and almost laughed. The Bushy One had been set there, but no Enemy to the other side of her. Curious. Had someone actually made the mistake of splitting them up? Poor defenceless Harry would be left in a social situation all by his lonesome, with nobody to help him. How amusing for Marcella. It would be entertaining to watch him suffer, should her companion for the evening not show up. Perhaps, if she could bring herself to talk to him, she might even contribute. She let her expression go blank as The Bushy One took her place, looking concerned for her friend.

Harry was worried. Well, confused was more apt, but there was worry present in his expression. He had been forgotten. He, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had not been given a place setting. He shot puppy dog eyes at Hermione, who, in an instant, surveyed the whole table, and found that indeed, all of the other seats had been taken, with the exception of the one to her immediate right. Checking the name, she saw that it would not be occupied, as she had overheard Blaise being given his detention by Professor Flitwick. Also, as know-it-all in residence of Hogwarts, it was her job to know these things anyway, so it was not really eavesdropping.

"Harry. I know for a fact that this seat right here is unoccupied. Go tell Professor Slughorn that you are taking that seat. Harry! Go!" She prodded him with her fish knife in the direction of the teacher's seat. He shot her a hurt look, but went anyway. Hermione had tried to tame her hair for the occasion, but having failed, she had simply screwed it up into a fairly large bun, making her efforts completely pointless, and the fact that Harry had noticed this was even more pointless. She just did not look like Hermione unless there was a crazy halo of fuzzy hair around her head, and at least one book in her hand. Asking permission to take the other boy's seat, he hurried back to his friend without realising who the person on his right was.

Marcella could have killed him then and there. She was within perfect range. Se could transform him into a fly and then squish him with her soup bowl. Or better yet, trap him inside something then torture him, then send him to her mother in a box to be tortured some more, then Bellatrix could send him to the Dark Lord to be tortured, and eventually killed. It sounded like a perfect plan, except for the fact that everybody there would be a witness to The Enemy seeming to disappear into thin air. It would be too much effort to wipe all of their memories. There would no doubt be plenty more opportunities to dispose of him. For now, she could not risk being discovered and instead had to control herself. At any rate, he was back to staring at her, just like he did most of the time he was in the near vicinity. It truly did annoy her to no end, but telling him to stop would acknowledge him as a human being.

Harry was determined to uncover this mystery sitting beside him. He still had not put his finger, or rather, Hermione's finger on who she looked like, for everybody knew that she was the only brains in their trio. Trying to be surreptitious about it, he stared at her from the corner of his eye, through his messy hair. He hoped she would not notice, yet she seemed to already know that he looked at her more than was politely acceptable. Frankly, he did not give a damn. Between the dark haired Slytherin beside him and the fair haired one no doubt wandering about the castle somewhere, he had not been paying much attention to anything else, including his Quidditch team. Once or twice, he had considered giving up his captaincy, but Ron refused to let him, although why he ever listened to him was yet another mystery to add to his list, including what Dobby had done with half of his socks, in an attempt to get him to wear mismatching ones.

This close, the girl was nothing more than the most beautiful girl he had ever seen at Hogwarts, and he had seen all of them. He always knew he had liked dark hair, but Cho had been too emotional, too Asian. He preferred the distinct European features of the girl beside him, with her thicker hair, black eyes and somewhat regal high cheekbones. He had completely forgotten that she was also a Slytherin, one not to be trusted with your favourite quill, let alone your emotions. From less than a metre away, he once again got the impression of a vampire, yet that was more likely due to the dangerous aura she was giving out rather than her pale skin or stereotypical vampire clothes. If Harry remembered correctly from one of Dudley's old video games, she reminded him of a succubus, a lethal, seductive female, she entices her prey with promises of the flesh, only to then eat theirs. Yes, he admitted to himself that he found her eerily seductive, still forgetting that she would hate him for the simple fact that she is a Slytherin and he is a Gryffindor. It did not help his imagination that her corset was laced fairly tight, accentuating everything it was supposed to, forcefully reminding him that corsets were originally worn underneath clothes. Harry wondered if technically, this counted as seeing her in her underwear. He had been staring at her for so long, he had not realised that Hermione had managed to have half of a conversation with him, without him. That always happened though. She would go off into a rant, and Harry and Ron would stare off into space, tuning her out. The majority of the time, it was about S.P.E.W., and sure enough, he heard the words "inhumane" and "Dobby" in the same sentence. He switched off again, pretending to concentrate on his food.

Marcella was bored enough to slip herself the draught of living death. Anything would be more interesting than what she was currently enduring. The Enemy had stopped staring at her, in fact, he appeared to have stopped thinking altogether. The boy to her other side, a repulsive, fat thing, was wolfing down everything in front of himself, barely managed two words at a time with the person to his other side. She was bewildered by the sheer amount of food he could fit onto his fork, and even more confused by his apparent ability to not have to chew.

She needed something to entertain herself. But what? Perhaps it was time to give The Enemy a taste of his own medicine. Although she had no desire to stare at him for a long period of time, hopefully he would take the hint. She was sure that her glares could be far more disconcerting than his stunned expressions. But how to appear? Bored? Contemplative? Intimidating? Intrigued? She supposed that for one evening, she could pretend to be interested in the Boy Who Refuses To Die. She had overheard one of the Slytherins use that expression the other day, and quite liked it. It could work as another nickname, albeit, a longer one than The Enemy.

So she stared at him through her lashes and hair. Her head was turned ever so slightly in his direction, tilted in silent contemplation, her body fixedly facing straight in front of her. For the first time, she was able to really look at him and size him up. She had seen him and Draco do this to each other plenty of times in the past week, so clearly he was used to it, although she found it harder as he was sitting down. Still, she could take in his unbelievably messy hair, the same shade as her own, with the bottom tip of his pink scar just peeking out. His decidedly emerald eyes were fixated on his empty plate, trying to be blank, but failing. She sighed heavily, adjusting herself in her seat a little. The motion drew his attention to her, and he noticed her stare. He started, and tried to look away, but she held her gaze. She only narrowed her eyes by the tiniest of amounts, yet he already appeared nervous, shifting uncomfortably in his own seat. They stared at each other, he in fear, she in curiosity. She wondered if he knew of occlumency, and decided to try it out. The worst that could happen would be that he would ask what she was doing. Gripping her wand under the table, she silently concentrated. He was too distracted by her to realise what she was doing. Of course, she ought to have known that he was a fairly one-dimensional being, only thinking about what was right in front of him. Yet she was able to pry out the word "succubus", which she intended to look up. She could see herself through his eyes only a few minutes ago, it appeared that he had been appreciating her body, for his brain fuzzed with thoughts of corsets and underwear. Only then did it occur to her that she was inspecting the mind of a teenage boy. She retreated, mildly horrified at the thought that The Enemy was fantasising about her. Not many things scared Marcella, but this was certainly cause for concern.

Thankfully, Slughorn's clock was chiming. Time for them all to go back to their dormitories, he announced, before Mr Filch got all of them, including himself, into trouble. They all left in groups of two or three, still wary of Mrs Norris and her uncanny ability to summon the caretaker. Marcella walked alone, of course, her thoughts occupied with what to do about The Enemy. This new development could be very interesting, if she handled it correctly.

The rest of the house was still awake, everybody except Daphne was in the common room, who was metaphorically bouncing off the walls in their dormitory. Somebody must have given her caffeine. This type of mood generally put her into an acquiescent state of mind. It gave Marcella an idea.

"Hey, Daphne, can I ask you something?" An eager nod in response. "Do you know what the word "succubus" means?" A perverted giggle escaped the hyper red head. "Maaaybe I do. Why?" She almost sounded like a child, but in a light-hearted kind of way, compared to the actual things, which were much more annoying. "Well, what is it? Can you tell me, please?" She was polite in her tone, but did not feel like indulging her friend with her antics.

Daphne bounced into a sitting position on her bed. "Well," she began, adopting a look of complete seriousness. "I think it means that you suck a bus." Deadpan silence from her dark haired friend. "Oh fine. You're no fun." She pouted a little, then carried on in a matter-of-fact tone. "A succubus is a type of vampire, traditionally portrayed as a really gorgeous female. She seduces men to have sex with her, then she drinks their blood or eats them, depending on which legends you go by. But she always kills them. I think." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Um, I forget. Why do you want to know?"

So this is what The Enemy saw her as? Lethal yet beautiful? She would never have thought of the second, although she assumed the first as fact. Due to her upbringing, she never really thought much of anything but grades and power, she never even considered other people, or emotions or attractions. She lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her four poster bed. Even the word "sex" was practically alien to her. Not once did her body ever occur to her as anything but the source of her power. Having no contact with children her own age when living with the Stones, they had never thought to bring up the subject, or anything related to it. Had they assumed she would figure it out for herself? Well, this did not seem like something she could learn from a book. She would have to swallow her pride and ask somebody.

Luckily, Daphne was still bouncing around, but with a little less vigour. She knew how sheltered Marcella had been as a child. She would understand why she needed to know. She would hopefully not laugh. "Daphne, can you teach me everything you know about…" The red-head looked up, expectant.

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Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Criticisms? All are welcome. I'm sure you know what to do by now.


	4. Chapter 4

I'll admit, this was a tad awkward to write. If you came here with expectations of citrusy flavours, then I apologise. Maybe someday, far down the line, but not right now. Indeed, with this being fanfiction, I only own Marcella, everything else belongs to Jo and her lovely team. You're reading Harry Potter fanfics, I daresay you know know I'm talking about. Now let's get on with it...

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"About sex." There. She had said it. Daphne did not look half as shocked as Marcella had imagined she would be. But she did seem to straighten up a bit. She had her attention. "The… the truth is that the Stones are great parents if you want independence, but they do not really talk to me. Especially not about relationships." The smirk from the other girl forced to her add hurriedly "I am not looking to start one, I just want to know." The knowledgeable smirk stayed put.

"So that's why you wanted to get to know Draco. I knew it!" she exclaimed, with another dangerous bounce on the side of her bed. She had been teetering at the edge for a while now, and if she was not careful, she would - too late. She slid off the silk sheets with a soft thump onto the emerald carpet, landing on her butt. With no response from her friend, she assumed she was correct. "So you _do_ have a heart. You know everybody's been saying that you're a cold-hearted bitch. But I know that's not true. And now I have proof. Marcie likes Draco! Marcie likes Draco!" She continued with her little chant, complete with hand gestures of sock puppets kissing. "Oh but," she looked almost sad, "he doesn't really like you. Ah crap! No, I mean… he tends to go for girls he knows really well. Like, really well. Plus, Pansy would kill you. Like, seriously, kill you dead." Her expression was unusually serious for somebody who was currently massaging the feeling back into their behind.

Marcella was not impressed. "I think I can handle Pansy. Plus, I do not like Draco. I just want to know." The reciprocating look was one that said "sure you do". "I do. Honestly, he seems ridiculously spoiled and self-centred. Why would anybody like that in a person? Truly I have no desire to be in a relationship, I just feel as though I should know, from a scholarly point of view." She painted on puppy eyes, hoping that the now less hyper girl would believe her.

"Okay okay, fine. I get it. Just warning you. Sheesh. So what do you want to know? Where he sticks it? Contraceptive spells? Or do you want something more interesting?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, suddenly reminding her companion that she was indeed a Slytherin. "Or shall we start with the basics? When a man loves a woman very much, he gives her a special kind of hug." She laughed. "The old clichés never really apply any more. How about: when a man and woman are in lust with each other, they feel the need to express this need. I like to call it their carnal desires." Marcella was not stopping her. Although not entirely convinced by her methods, she might actually find out something worth knowing. So keeping her mouth shut and pretending to be completely clueless seemed to be the easiest way to get through her embarrassment.

"If you ask me Marcie, the real core to sexuality is confidence, which you already have. Guys like confident girls. Especially Slytherin boys. I have no idea how Pansy manages to think she has them all in the palm of her hand. Although I bet Gryffindors are more the type to like the wilting flower, the damsel in distress." her hand flew to her forehead in a mock fainting stance. She made her way over to Marcella's bed, sitting cross-legged at the bottom. "I know what we need!" She jumped up again, over to her trunk and rummaged about a bit. A look of triumph mounted her face, as she held out a bottle of cough potion? "I know what you're thinking. Potions? How are they going to help? Not a lot. But the real contents will. How do you like your whiskey? Straight or on the rocks? Oh wait." She hit herself on the side of her head with her open palm. "Never mind. No ice."

Marcella gave her friend a look of distaste and the bottle a look of wariness. She had never had more than one glass of wine before in her life, and going by some of the stories she had heard, this would be strong alcohol. "Really Daphne? Do we really need that?"

But her friend was emphatic, nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, yes we do. No Slytherin girls night in is complete without firewhiskey. Tradition. And don't I know it." She grinned widely. "Now, out with the clichéd good girl thing, it doesn't suit such an upstanding Slytherin such as yourself. Drink." She held out the bottle with a forceful gesture. Marcella sighed, and drank. She had expected it to be worse, it burned a little, but was not entirely unpleasant. She could get used to it. Daphne gave her an appreciative glance.

"Now, first things first. You had a sheltered childhood, right? So I can assume that you, Marcie darling, have never kissed anybody. Would I be right? I thought so. See, personally, I am not really into the whole mushy love part of relationships. So if you want emotional talks, go find a Hufflepuff. But you would probably have to convince them you are not going to hurt them first… Anyway. Physical relationships, I can talk about." Here, Daphne took another swig out of the bottle and smirked. Wagging her finger at her friend, she added "Now don't go thinking I am a slut or anything. No no, not indeed. I, uh, read. And, unfortunately, live in the same dorm as Pansy, who likes to think she has all the answers. Don't go to her for advice. But you know that."

Marcella sighed. Was she ever going to get to the point? She had to get the information, then decide what she would do with it - tonight. She knew she needed to know this stuff, if they would ever get to talking about it. She took the bottle.

"Okay okay okay. I can see you are getting impatient. Basically, I would tell anybody else that the first time a guy kisses you, let him take over, they like to feel like they are in control of the situation or something. But in your case, I would say if you were submissive, they would be confused. It clashes with your confidence, and like I said before, confidence is the key to being sexy. You have to be comfortable in and with your body. It seems to me that you are, but like, not the way I mean. Let's face it, if you weren't so distant all the time, the guys would be all over you. If you didn't act like the male species disgusted you, you could really have any of them at your heels." The dark haired girl was confused and she showed it. "Oh come on, Marcie, you're hot. Seriously." A flicker of incredulity passed through her eyes, before she laughed, dismissing it. "Okay, fine. You don't believe me? I can prove it. I found these in Filch's office." She held up a string with two large ears on either end. It was not hard to guess what they were for. "You take this ear, and I'll drop this one behind my chair. I am going to prove me right. Which I always am anyway." With that, she got up and strode towards the door.

"Trust me, you want to listen." She said it with such confidence that Marcella was convinced to go to the door with the left over ear. Hading behind the heavy wood, she listened for voices. There was a thump as she presumed the other was dropped inconspicuously. "Theo…? Can I talk to you?" Daphne gave the boy no time to answer. "Great. So. Basically, I need you to prove a theory of mine. I swear. Completely confidential. The usual if I lie." Marcella vowed to find out what "the usual" was once this was over. A male grunt was audible, just about affirmative. "Great." The grin could be heard in her voice. Shuffling noises as she got comfortable on the plush green velvet. "What d'you think of Marcella? Like actually think of her? I know she seems all secretive and all, but what good Slytherin isn't?"

He grunted his assent again. "I dunno. I don't know her. Don't really think about her, to be frank. Ask somebody else."

An idea sprung into her head. One that made her mentally slap herself on the side of the head for not thinking of it sooner. "I know! You can help me with something then. Right. I want to have a little experiment. So when all the guys get into your dorm tonight, ask them. Not just about Marcie, about all of us. In our year, anyway. As in, who they like. Then tell me!" He began to say something that sounded like "No wa-" but was cut off. "I can persuade you, if you like. How much do you want?" Of what?, Marcella wondered. "For this? I'm gonna need a full crate." He sounded stubborn. "No way!" A pause as Daphne considered. "Half a dozen bottles. One of each of the guys, if they find out, and two for you. How about that?" He must have nodded. "Awesome! I can get it for you by Wednesday, Friday at the very latest. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Nott." She bounded back off to her dorm, happy as anything.

Marcella was nonchalant. "You found out nothing. Now you have to wait to "prove your point". And why ask about everybody else?" Daphne just shrugged. "It would look weird if he just came out asking about you. Plus, I want to know what they think about me. Best part is, we can use those ear thingies, and know if he lies to me. And for every lie, I take away a bottle." This grin of hers was becoming a habit. "And now, we wait."

They went out to the common room and talked quietly about anything they could think of, watching which boys went into the dorms. Eventually, it was only them, Theodore and two seventh year girls remaining. As Nott left yawning, Daphne shot him a look. He nodded and disappeared through the door. Quietly as they could, the girls retrieved the ear-string thing. Shrinking it, they slid it through the crack under the door and elongated the string so they could sit somewhere comfortable. The two seventh years had gone.

"Crabbe, if you sit on my robes one more time, I swear I'll shrink your head!" "I didn't do nothin'." "Who took my magazine? You know which one." The girls were impatient. So far, Nott had no bottles. He needed to bring up the discussion to even hope of getting one. "So Draco, how far have you got with Pansy now? Is she letting you, you know?" Daphne saw where he was going with this, but all the same, she did not really want to hear the answer. His usual sneer came back as a response. "I know what, exactly? Is she letting me screw her?" The rest of the boys stopped talking. This was a topic they enjoyed. One bottle. Draco continued. "Why would I want to? There's no point. There's no challenge. Pansy would lay down for anybody, if they could stand to touch her." This time, Blaise was the one confused. "But you seemed to be on "good terms" with her." What could only be described as a sound of disgust was heard. "Zabini, I'm more likely to sleep with a mudblood than her." He was serious about it then. The girls smirked to themselves. Nobody jumped to her defence. Two bottles so far.

Eager to get entirely pissed the next weekend, Nott persevered. "Alright then, who would you do? Given the choice. Obviously you would only want a Slytherin anyway. Greengrass? Stone? Bulstrode?" The last one was said through laughter, and a few of the other joined in. Blaise answered for them all. "Mate, Millicent quite clearly swings the other way. And even if she didn't, nobody would go near her." The girls exchanged a look. They would think twice about changing in her presence again. Still, three bottles now.

Theodore was counting them in his head too. He knew what value she would put on what information, so he continued. "Greengrass isn't so bad though. A bit mad, mind you." She narrowed her eyes into a pout, but Marcella's look reminded her that he was only speaking the truth. This time, Draco's dulcet tones were to be heard. "Yeah, if you like red heads. I dunno… She's too… bouncy for me. Too much energy. Likely to wear a guy out." They could hear the smirk in his voice. Blaise chuckled. "Then again, maybe you just don't have enough stamina." Draco scoffed at the challenge. "You want her Blaise, you can have her. I'm sure she'll be a firecracker in bed." Daphne's grin became almost devilish in that instant, licking her lips in amusement. She knew it would play out like this. Crabbe and Goyle would stay silent, as always and Nott would be the informant, keeping the conversation going, rather than saying anything himself. Not to worry, the two talkers were the ones she was interested in anyway. They were the two with the most experience. If anything, hooking up with Blaise would be beneficial to her talks with Marcella. As it stood, four bottles. The last two were for every word about Marcella. She needed to prove she was right.

On the last stretch of the deal, Nott hurried it up. "So if you don't like red heads, what about the new girl, Draco? If she didn't seem so frigid, obviously." Daphne fumed. Marcella was not frigid! She was just… Aloof. Blaise had started talking again. "I dunno. She kind of reminds me of Draco. Complacent, hostile, smart as Hell. Except of course, you have accepted your sexuality and to all the girls, are a Sex God." He seemed to not believe what he was saying. Perhaps the blond had given him a look, showing he did not appreciate the comparison. He continued anyway. "Personality aside, I would. Like you said, Draco, you like a challenge. It would be a serious challenge to get in there." All Marcella could think was "I'd like to see him try", but then remembered that she was supposed to get close to him anyway. Still, she listened carefully for his response. Instead, Nott spoke. "Yeah, but why? Does the mocha boy have a taste for the latte girl? Face it man, she looks like something out of those muggle vampire movies. Half the time I think she's gonna drink my blood. Plus, have you noticed how quiet she walks? Like she's stalking prey or something. Creepy, I'm telling you." The "latte girl" smiled. The carnivore act was exactly what she intended it to look like. The "mocha boy" responded. "Oh come on, is a big Slytherin like you scared of a girl? Plus, muggle vampires are sexy. I wouldn't mind her chewing on me, if you get my drift." Everybody listening, except for Marcella did.

Draco finally commented. "Like I can say anything about somebody being pale. But yeah, maybe. A challenge indeed. Honestly, we know nothing about her. She might be really boring. Still, with those legs, I might be able to make an exception." The girl looked at her jeans, confused. "Aw come on, those legs? More like: that ass. You, my friend, have to learn to appreciate the fit of our school skirts." Daphne whispered the phrase "ass man" to her friend, with a promise of an explanation later. The boys then went on to complain about the school robes, so the girls gently pulled the tiny ear back and scuttled towards the dying fire.

The red haired girl was looking extremely pleased with herself. Sure she had been called "mad", but they also thought she was a "firecracker". Also, the fact that they all hated Pansy and that Draco has not actually done anything with her was comforting. That meant that he actually had as much experience as Marcella, which would be perfect when she set them up. And she had to congratulate herself on thinking of the idea, for now her friend had to believe that guys found her attractive. They said so themselves. Except Nott. But he did not count.

They both knew that neither of them would sleep for a while yet, so they stayed where they were, as Daphne gave a very vivid and detailed sex lesson, including what an "ass man" was, and why it was bad not to use contraceptive spells and / or potions. "But the most important thing," she stressed, "is that it's all instinct. It's human nature to find a mate and bang the Hell out of them to continue our race. Just, please don't be continuing your race until you finish school, at least." Marcella assured her that children were the last thing on her mind. She had bigger goals than a family. She just had to bear in mind that her mission at Hogwarts would help her in the long run. Eventually, they both crawled off to bed, wondering how many bottles Nott would earn.

The next morning they got up early, knowing that they needed to corner Nott before breakfast if they were going to get anything out of him. True to form, he confirmed what they had said, and got a sound promise of the whiskey delivery by Friday. He walked off whistling.

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I am certainly not condoning underage drinking here, but let's face it, it happens all the time! Also, I apologise to any teenage boys if this doesn't sound like "locker room" talk. I did my best, but hey, at the end of the day, I'm female. I would say that the moral of this part of the story is to tell the truth (even if you're a Slytherin) and also, no making babies until you're old enough to handle them! I am most certainly promoting safe sex. See, I can be positive too.

Don't forget the little review button. I don't get many, so anything you want to say is welcome, provided that it's related to what I've written.


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